A Gift Wrapping Cat-astrophe
by fbeauchamphartz
Summary: Kurt and Blaine finish wrapping all their presents when they realize that something very important has gone astray. Future Fic. Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.


**A/N: Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble prompt 'yesterday'.**

 ***Please read the author's notes at the end***

"Oh…my…God," Kurt yawns, stretching stiff arms over his head, a hand over his mouth. "What time is it?"

Blaine, curled up on the floor beside the tree, his body wrapped around an empty cardboard roll that used to hold Star Wars wrapping paper, and with a green holographic bow stuck to his curls, blinks his eyes open. He rolls his head to check the iPhone lying beside his face.

"It's tomorrow," Blaine replies.

"Tomorrow?" Kurt yawns again. "Wasn't it just yesterday about seven hours ago?"

"Sounds about right," Blaine says. "But at least we finally got all the presents wrapped."

" _We_?" Kurt groans. "More like _I_. You curled up with your cardboard boyfriend there after you wrapped your mom's presents, and passed out."

"Well, I was here with you in spirit," Blaine says, sitting up, "and it obviously helped. Look at the wonderful job you did."

Kurt huffs.

"You're just lucky you're cute, Blaine Devon Anderson-Hummel, or else you'd be spending the rest of the night underneath that Christmas tree."

"And my spine thanks you," Blaine says, "along with other things." Blaine wiggles his eyebrows and Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Calm down, tiger," Kurt says, "I'm exhausted. The minute my head hits that pillow, I'll be out."

"That's never been a problem before," Blaine teases, and Kurt, too tired to roll his eyes a second time, mumbles something about a cock cage and starts heading for the bedroom, happy to leave the mess of unused wrapping paper and empty tape rolls on the living room floor till morning…or _later_ that morning.

"Speaking of tigers," Kurt says, stopping in the hallway, "have you seen Judy?"

"The last time I saw her, she was curled up next to you," Blaine says of their one-year-old tabby.

"Yeah, but I swear she went to lie next to _you_ when you started snoring," Kurt counters, scanning the room.

"I do not snore," Blaine grumbles.

"Like a tractor trailer," Kurt says casually, searching underneath the sofa and the coffee table for any sign of their feline companion. "That's not the point."

"She's probably just hiding somewhere under the tree," Blaine says, waving his husband toward the bedroom door.

"That's what I'm afraid of. I don't want her sharpening her claws on any of the three hundred presents I just finished wrapping."

"She's only a kitten. I doubt she'd be able to make it through ten presents. A small price to pay. Let's go to bed."

"Easy for you to say, Captain Cuddles," Kurt says. "You only wrapped three."

"We'll find her in the morning," Blaine whines. "Now come on-"

Kurt stands up suddenly, putting a hand up to shush his husband.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Blaine asks, lowering his voice.

"Listen."

Both men stand quiet and still, but only Kurt knows what they're listening for…and then Blaine hears it – a small, pathetic meow, soft and muffled.

"Okay, well, I definitely hear her," Blaine says.

"She sounds…she sounds like she's in trouble." Kurt walks carefully around the living room, listening at the walls, the cabinets, close to the floorboards, trying to figure out where the meowing is coming from. "We have to find her."

"We will," Blaine says, following Kurt's lead, getting down on his hands and knees and searching under the rest of the furniture, under the sofa cushions, under the throw rugs, inside the empty tubes of wrapping paper, until he hears the meowing again…coming from underneath the tree.

"I told you," Blaine says, sitting back on his heels, "she's under the…"

A new sound joins the meowing, a subtle scratching, and Kurt's eyes go wide.

"She's not under the tree," he says. "She's inside one of the presents!"

Kurt looks at Blaine. Blaine looks at the presents, stacked thigh high underneath the tree, meticulously wrapped using seven different styles of paper, each with a coordinating bow or flourish of ribbon curls, and slaps a hand to his forehead.

"Oh, poop."

* * *

 _* I would like to add that yes, I do realize that they could probably simplify matters by not opening every present, but listening to the boxes for the meowing and just open that box, but I would like to think that them being so exhausted means that that idea didn't come to them right away. Also, I realize the seriousness of a kitten being trapped in a box with no air holes, so let's pretend that since Kurt and Blaine can hear her rather clearly, she's in one of the last boxes Kurt wrapped, and ergo one of the first he picks up and opens. There. Now we are free to appreciate the humor :)_


End file.
